


Our Bed Until The Morning Comes

by Mychelle_Wilmot



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Between Episodes, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Introspection, Mentions of past abuse, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5370707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mychelle_Wilmot/pseuds/Mychelle_Wilmot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first, Alana didn’t comment on the scars; she didn't even think about it. Until she did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Bed Until The Morning Comes

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a beta reader, every grammatical mistake is my own. 
> 
> Set somewhere after Secondo and before Contorno. I... guess? Hannibal's timeline can be confusing, sigh.
> 
> My first time writing for Hannibal! I was surprised it turned out to be Marlana since I spent the last few months living and breathing Hannigram, but Marlana is such a wonderful pairing, it was a delight to write about them.

 ***

At first, Alana didn’t comment on the scars. 

She saw it, of course; it was impossible to not notice the scars the first time Margot disrobed in front of her. The big and ugly scar in her stomach that still looked recent, the smaller and older marks all over her back and shoulders; Margot was all covered in scars.

But Alana did not comment or acknowledged the scars out loud; she didn't ask, Margot didn’t offer an explanation.

(Also, once Margot was naked in front of her, Alana quickly found out that she couldn’t think very clear at all.)

When they were having sex, it was impossible to not touch them, but Alana’s touch didn’t linger or traced any of her scars - she simply tried to pleasure Margot as much as she could, relishing every moan, every sigh that she could extract from her mouth.

In the moments where they would lay together at night, away from the watchful eyes of Mason and Cordell, Alana would stay awake for a while; she would watch Margot sleep, or she would stare at the ceiling, thinking in how exactly she reached this position on her life.

It was not her position as Mason Verger’s ally that intrigued her; she knew very well why she accepted his offer to be his psychiatrist.

Catching Hannibal Lecter was a priority, and Alana was more than willing to use the Verger’s family money and connections to reach this goal, even if her motivations were  vastly different from the other people running after Hannibal.

Despite what she told Mason, she wasn’t searching for Hannibal for revenge, like Mason himself. She knew she was only a pawn in Hannibal’s games, a puppet moved by him when he needed her participation, but her bitterness wouldn’t ever be her main motivation.  

It also wasn’t for justice, like Jack; she stopped believing in justice when she was choking in her own blood with glass shards all over her body in that fateful night, and she was sure that she wasn’t after Hannibal for the same reasons that Will was - even if she still couldn’t quite figure out what exactly Will’s feelings for Hannibal were, even after months and months of careful consideration.

No, Alana wasn’t after Hannibal for petty or sentimental reasons; it was only a matter of self preservation.

She had never experienced pure, sheer horror and fear as she did when she saw Hannibal throwing himself at his pantry door, covered in blood and just as animalistic as a wild animal, and when Hannibal promised her that he would kill her if she was brave instead of blind, Alana knew he was telling the truth.

It could be tomorrow, it could be in a week or in ten years; Alana knew that if Hannibal remained free, he would come back to fulfil his promise and Alana didn’t have any desire to die.

Alana knew she sealed her fate when she chose to be brave and not blind – she would have to remain brave, and catch Hannibal before he caught her.

So, this wasn’t the reason that kept Alana awake at night at times; what intrigued Alana was how exactly she ended up in Margot Verger’s bed, watching her sleep.

Alana did know that eventually she was going to end up in Margot’s bed; it was clear seconds after they first met. Since the beginning, the possibility was a very pleasant thought – Margot was a beautiful, intelligent woman, and having such a close connection with the most pleasant of the Verger’s heirs could somehow be useful for Alana’s future, and after her close encounter with a premature death, Alana wasn’t above abusing her position or her contacts to get what she wanted.

And that was the reason of why she laid awake at night, staring at Margot as if her sleeping form would offer any answers of when it stopped being useful and started being pleasurable.

Of course, the exercise was mostly pointless - Alana knew very well when it all started.

It started with the scars.

If at first she barely paid attention, overwhelmed with Margot’s kisses and touches, and later she politely stopped herself of prying, extending to Margot the same courtesy that she did when didn’t asked about her cane or her fading bruises, now what she felt was an overwhelming curiosity, the kind of curiosity that Alana associated with feelings, the kind that you would feel for someone that you cared.

Margot had too many scars in too many unnatural forms, scars who were obviously given her by someone else, probably since she was a child. The older marks made Alana wonder if they were given by one of her parents, or by her brother - Mason did seem sadistic enough to submit Margot to such a treatment.

“Are you ever going to ask me, or you’ll just stare at them night after night when you think I’m asleep?”

Alana went still; Margot’s voice was low,  not much louder than a whisper, but her tone suggested that she awake for a while.

“I’m sorry” Alana shook her head “It’s not my place to ask.”

Margot sighed, and pushed herself up on the bed; the curtains were open, and the only source of light on the bedroom was the moon invading the ambient. The soft moonlight bathed Margot’s skin and made she look astonishing beautiful, almost ethereal.

“You’re practically living in my bed in these past few weeks; it surprises me that it took so long for you to get curious.”  

It was truth. Alana didn’t even remember the last time she slept on her own bed. These days she only went home to feed and to walk Will’s dogs, spending most of her awake and unconscious moments with Margot.

“I didn’t pay much attention at the beginning” Alana confessed “And I have my own share of scars that you never commented on, so it didn’t seem fair to ask.”

“It’s not really the same. The people and the reasons behind your scars are widely more known than my own collection.”

Alana shook her head, and pushed herself up too, sitting beside Margot.

“If I asked, there was too many variables that I wasn’t sure I would want to confront.”

Margot looked away from her, biting her lip; half naked and barely illuminated by the moon, the troubled expression in her face made Margot look vulnerable, a look that Alana wasn’t used to associate with her. 

Alana wasn’t a stranger for people who used their fears and vulnerability as a shield. She had seen it a thousand times before, when she still worked in familial cases, in small children and adult women; she had seen it on Will Graham’s face since the first time she saw him, and in her own face when she was just starting to see the truth.

But upon recognizing this expression now, she instantly discovered that she didn’t like to see it on Margot’s face.

“My scars were given by my brother. Every single one, directly or by proxy.”

Alana swallowed, but forced herself to remain still - she already suspected it, and it would be no good to interrupt Margot now that she started talking.

“The ones on my back, my shoulders, the scar on my broken arm, on my legs… you pick one. Mason was behind every single one.”

Margot wasn’t looking at her, but Alana was tracing her movements carefully, and she saw Margot’s hand moving towards her own belly, touching the big scar there.

“What happened?” Alana eventually asked, when Margot remained in silence.

“You know my brother was… incapacitated with the help of Doctor Lecter” Alana went still at the mention of Hannibal’s name, but she nodded “But did he ever told you the extension of  my involvement in this story?”

Alana furrowed her brows; Mason had told her that Hannibal and Will were responsible for his disfigurement, but he was very vague about the details of the history, vague enough that Alana would be frustrated if she was talking to him for actual therapy. She did know that Margot was one of Hannibal’s patients, but that was as far as she knew.  

Margot took her silence as an invitation to speak because she started talking, more than Alana ever heard her say.

During her narration, Alana felt several emotions; surprise, shock, anger, sadness. It didn’t even surprise her that Hannibal was so involved in her therapy - Margot’s emotional scars were the kind that would immediately attract Hannibal’s interest, and by know she knew that his curiosity and amusement were one of his only traceable motivations. Will’s involvement with Margot, even if it was clinical and cold according to Margot’s description  left a bitter taste in her mouth, and for a second, Alana couldn’t tell if she was jealous of Margot or Will.

But when Margot finished her tale, her face strained with the effort exerted in trying to hide her vulnerability, there was a dominant sentiment in Alana's gut; hatred.

In that moment, she hated Mason Verger more than she had ever hated anyone in her life. More than she hated Hannibal in his kitchen in that night, more than she hated Chilton when she thought he was the Chesapeake Ripper. Chilton wasn’t guilty of these particular crimes on the end, and Hannibal was completely beyond her comprehension, but Mason was much more ordinary than that, and his cruelty easier to grasp and to hate for her.

In that moment she understood why Hannibal didn’t kill Mason - the suffering and humiliation that his life now carried would probably seem a more fit punishment for him than death could ever be. He deserved to live, and to suffer.

And yet, when Alana looked again at Margot, her eyes shining with tears in the soft moonlight, all Alana could think about was that she wanted Mason dead. She could live with the idea of Mason behind bars, but from the bottom of her heart, all she wanted was to squeeze the life out of him, just for being the one responsible to put that look on Margot’s face.

For a few moments her thoughts shocked her - a few months ago she would be horrified in thinking about ending a life in such a callous way, and especially in being the one who would administer it - but only for a few moments; everything changed after the day she was thrown off Hannibal’s window, and her thoughts and priorities were different, and apparently, Margot’s well being had become one of her main concerns.

“You’re not fighting alone anymore, Margot” Alana said softly “You’re not alone anymore against your brother. I’m right beside you.”

Margot’s expression was shocked for a few seconds, and Alana couldn’t fault her for it when her words seemed sudden even for her own ears.

“Are you, really? Seems hard to grasp.  Life has showed me time and time again that I’m alone on my battles.”

Alana nodded; it was hard to grasp, after all. Allowing herself to have a real, emotional connection with Margot was very risky and against everything Alana ever said to herself regarding relationships during all her life, and it could have disastrous consequences.

But Margot made her feel reckless in such a breathtaking and new way, Margot could make her smile, could make her gasp in pleasure, could even make her have hope for happiness in the future.

After she got out of the hospital, Margot was the only one who could make her feel alive, truly alive, and not just as someone going through the motions. Margot made her forget for a few moments all the twisted things in her life, and Margot made her happy - and Alana knew that she would do anything to preserve that feeling.

Alana was tired of fighting this fight only in the good side when it did her no good at all. She was going to toe the line to reach what she wanted, or even cross it altogether if necessary.

She put her hand in Margot’s cheek, caressing lightly.

“I don’t expect you to believe me right now, but yes. I want to be by our side in this fight, doesn’t matter the results. i feel like I want to be by your side for a long, long time.”

Margot gave her a tiny smile, barely noticeable in the low light,  but Alana could tell that she still didn’t quite believe her.

It didn’t matter; they would have time.

“How long?”

Alana smiled, and leaned in for a brief kiss.

“Very long.”

And with Margot’s now soft eyes staring at her, feeling the inviting warmth of her skin so near, Alana couldn’t even contemplate the idea of wanting anything other in her life anytime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> The title it's from the song 'Because the Night', by Patti Smith.
> 
> I apologize for any grammatical mistake. English is not my native language, and writing it can be troublesome at times.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading, and if you want to drop a review, they always make my day!


End file.
